Cats Don't Direct
by JetstreamSaberPotter1997
Summary: All right! Danny has finally done it! He's the first animal to become a director for an all animal cast. Yikes! Danny's script has disappeared, but never fear The Rescue Rangers are here! But willour heroes solve the greatest whodunit of all? Read and find out


_**Hi Im JetstreamSaberPotter and this is my first ever fanfic so be play nice ;)**_

_**I Wrote A CDD Fanfic cuz there isn't enough**_

_**Disclaimer: CDD came out the year I was born, idiots. Therefore, I own nothing **_

Chapter 1 – The Big Picture and A Dire Situation

**EXTRA, EXTRA**

**Hollywood Daily Gab**

_**Hollywood- the show biz circuit has laid on its collective ear this week as Tinsel Town veteran and bigwig L.B Mammoth resigned long-time star Daniel Cat-Kelligan to a lucrative deal that makes him the first animal director in Hollywood history.**_

_**The multi-talented star of Mammoth Studios made his splashy debut in '' Singing In the Rain'' and has gone on to co-star Sawyer to become on of the most memorable dancing duos in big-screen history!**_

_**When asked for the straight dope on this history-making movie, Danny was heard to say, ''you'll just have to wait and see, but I guarantee it'll be worth it!''**_

_**There you have it from the cat's meow, I mean mouth. Danny Cat-Kelligan has appeared in over 20 motion pictures, including ''American in Paris'', ''Deep In My Heart'', and ''It's Always Fair Weather''. **_

_**He and Sawyer have also appeared in several Broadway productions, including the animal acted revival of ''Show Boat''.**_

_**An ickle birdie told me that our creative feline is now working out the details of his script with the Mammoth Pictures Editing Squad, and shooting is reportedly scheduled to begin two weeks from now. **_

L.B. Mammoth, head of Mammoth Studios, held up the headline for everyone in the boardroom to read. His face was beaming, and despite the spectacles over his eyes it was obvious that he was a happy camper.

"This publicity campaign's already been a smashing success," L.B. started in, interrupted by the board members' clapping. "We've had a great deal of interest from movie houses across the country. Gentlemen, I feel that Danny's movie is the answer to the recent turndown we've had. If this film goes over big, we'll push a whole series of them!"

More clapping followed, then L.B.'s right-hand man and chief director Flanigan spoke up. "Right you are, chief! This move stands to make L.B. Mammoth's name live forever in the shining memory of Hollywood!"

"Well said, Flanigan," L.B. replied, "and you're going to help."

"M…m…me, sir?" Flanigan asked. "But I thought Danny was directing this picture."

"He is, but he's not experienced yet. I want a veteran backing him as assistant director. Flanigan, you're the only man I trust for the job."

Flanigan ducked his head a little, and it was clear he was not thrilled about playing second banana. "Well, okay sir. If it's for the good of the studio." L.B. stood up. "That's the answer I expected. Now, Danny informs me that the script should be back from the editors either today or tomorrow. Once it's finalized with the printers, get with him and make sure everything goes smoothly."

With a nod, Flanigan left the room and L.B. asked the secretary to let Danny and Sawyer in. The dancing cat nearly flew into the room, exuberant and full of pep. L.B. shook the cat's hand. "Danny, congratulations. You've made this studio one of the brightest lights in this old town, and earned quite a name for yourself."

"Gosh, thanks sir!" Danny said, pumping his boss' hand. "I can't take all the credit, though. It was a team effort—Sawyer, in particular helped convince me to take this step. We'll turn the movie industry on its ear again! Just wait!"

"I'm sure you will. Now don't forget, the printers need your completed script draft from the editors by the end of the week. Don't let any copies get out, or the spies at our rival studios will either try to copy us or leak the storyline to the press."

Danny snapped off a sharp salute. "Don't worry, Mr. Mammoth, nothing's gonna stop us now!"

Sawyer grabbed Danny's arm. "Come on, Mr. Unstoppable. We have a dinner date with the rest of the old crew, remember?"

Danny thanked every member of the board, then returned to Sawyer, bubbling with confidence.

"Yeah! A good meal will get the ol' creative juices going."

Danny and Sawyer shook hands with L.B. at the door and headed out. They headed for the Brown Derby, where a reunion of sorts was going on. Danny had called all the animals they'd first worked with together, not only to talk over old times but to talk about being in his latest film. Some of them, like Pudge and Cranston, had been working some time at rival studios, but Danny had talked L.B. into pulling a few strings. Others either already worked for Mammoth Studios or had gone on to other jobs, but they had all eagerly gathered (well, Cranston never was eager about anything) to hear Danny pitch his ideas.

They were seated in a private room, and once Danny was sure it was secure he took center stage, happy as a lark. "Friends, Romans, farm animals, lend me your ears! I've written the greatest musical ever!" Danny jumped on top of the big round table they were seated at, taking center stage as he took up the centerpiece off the white linen tablecloth.

"It'll be the retelling of a classic! A story with pathos, love, drama and heart!"

Cranston looked up at him, sarcastic. "What's it called, 'Bippi Bippi Bop Bop'?"

Tilly clouted him, knocking his head through the table. "Oh, Cranston! I'm sure it's gonna be a real hit!"

T.W. started quaking in his shell. "It doesn't involve anything to do with the number 13, does it?"

Danny grinned, like he was sharing the best secret in the world. "I'm doing a remake of 'A Streetcar Named Desire', but my new and improved version's called 'A Street Cat Named Desiree'!"

There was a good two-second pause for sheer shock value, then Cranston's mouth kicked back in gear. "So in other words it's a complete rewrite."

"Wow!" Pudge said. "So do we all get to be in it, Danny?"

"You bet! It's set in a college town down south, and it's all about an optimistic freshman college quarterback and a big city girl who loves to act, dance and sing, and it's how they both grow and learn from each other."

"That sure doesn't sound like the original story," Sawyer said.

Danny had kept everything about the film secret up to this point, even from her.

"Do you think you can swing that past the audience?" she asked.

Danny waved off her concern. "If they've seen the original, they'll _love_ our version, believe me."

Cranston crossed his arms, harrumphing. "If there's an increase in seismic activity during filming, it'll be Tennessee Williams rolling in his grave…"

Frances, sitting next to him, nodded. "Tell me about it, darling. I used to date his editor. Almost became my fourth husband."

Tilly, never to be overly worried about anything, was overcome with excitement and jumped up and down, nearly knocking the giant derby off the restaurant's roof. "Ooo, goodygoodygoody! It sounds exciting! When do we start filming?"

"We don't have a lot of time," Danny said, retaking his seat at the table. "The script needs to be ready in a week and filming begins in two weeks."

Woolie the Mammoth, who had remained quiet to this point sipping on his peanut tea, spoke up. "It sounds ambitious, Danny. But never fear, we're all with you. After all, you proved to us all that your dream was genuine. We were just fortunate to be along for the ride."

Danny nodded and addressed the whole table. "Okay, we all have a lot riding on this, though it may not seem like it—the first animal-directed movie. It'll be a victory for animals everywhere!"

Sawyer tapped Danny on the shoulder, breaking the exuberant cat out of his train of thought. "And Danny's hired me as his casting director as well as his co-star. We're going to try to make this film an homage to the success of animal actors everywhere, so we'll be trying to pull in several of the classic animal actors for cameos."

Sawyer checked her jewel-encrusted watch. "Speaking of which, auditions are set to start this afternoon. I'd better get down there and head off the chaos."

"Okay, but one more thing first," Danny said, opening a bottle of champagne. They all filled their glasses for a toast, and Danny gave it. "To dreams that came true, and to more on the way!"

Champagne glasses clinked all around, and the meeting broke up. Danny escorted Sawyer outside, and just as she was about to step out from under the Derby's awning, a cloudburst hit.

"Not now!" Sawyer said. "I spent half the morning at the beauty parlor. No _way_ am I going to spoil it now."

A concierge brought an umbrella, and Danny took it.

"Don't worry, Sawyer," Danny said. "I'll go get your chauffeur's attention!"

Before Sawyer could protest, Danny had stepped off the curb. He just stood there for a moment, then pulled his umbrella back, letting the rain splash him.

"Oh no, not that again…" Sawyer mumbled, covering her face. Unlike Sawyer, Danny loved to cavort in public. He started to strut to music only he could hear, whipping his umbrella around. Then he started humming and singing from the "Singing in the Rain" theme, lost in a world of his own.

"_I'm dancin'…and singin'…in… the raaaaain_…" Danny sang, finishing up with a flourish. The crowd on the sidewalk in front of the Derby clapped, but he noticed that Sawyer wasn't there anymore. "Hey, where'd she go?"

"She left a few minutes ago," Tilly said. "Something about 'not having time for this'."

"Oh, okay," Danny said, not fazed at all. "I'll see you all at the studio!"

Cranston grumbled, a raindrop popping him in the eye. "I'm probably going to regret this."

Meanwhile, on the opposite coast, a group of diminutive do-gooders was wrapping up a case. The Rescue Rangers were widely known—not just in the animal community of New York, but to animals around the world—as upholders of justice and honor. At the moment, they were flying to their headquarters, the largest oak tree in Central Park.

Chip, leader of the Rangers, tipped his fedora down over his chipmunk face and prepared for forty winks in the RangerWing when a certain red-nosed comrade of his decided to have some fun. Dale had just finished a soda and took a piece of ice from his cup and slid it down the back of Chip's bomber jacket. Chip leaped up with a yelp and bonked Dale on the head. "Dale, what are you doing?"

Dale laughed, ignoring the bonk entirely. "Hey, _you're_ the one who's always saying to keep cool under pressure! I was just helping you out!"

Monterey Jack, Monty to his friends, could see the munks' daily rough-and-tumble about to start. The big mustached Aussie mouse liked a good fight, but only when he was in it. He separated the two of them before they could pounce on each other.

"Here now, mates! Gadget's already told ya once, she don't need the likes of you scrapping in the RangerWing. Besides, ol' Dale was just having a mite of sport, right mate?" Monty asked.

Dale leaned forward from his back seat position and gave Chip an impish grin. "It was great sport for me!"

Chip pushed him back where he belonged. "Dale, stop fooling around! There's work to be done. You never know when something could come up."

"Aw, you're always saying that!" Dale countered. "We weren't causing any trouble, were we, Gadget?"

At this, the RangerWing's pilot looked back toward Dale. Gadget Hackwrench was the Rangers' inventor, mechanic and pilot, and as far as two chipmunks were concerned the loveliest mouse ever to grace the planet. She, like most obsessed geniuses, was totally oblivious to their attentions. "Hmm...oh, I suppose not. Golly, who would've thought that Fat Cat would've stooped so low as to use itching powder at a dog show and then try to steal the trophies? Of course, he couldn't have won them legitimately. I wonder why there aren't cat shows?"

"There are, lass," Monty said, shuddering at the mere thought. "They just aren't as popular—can't _imagine_ why…"

"If Fat Cat's any example, it'd be a total disaster," Chip quipped. "Let's get back to headquarters. I want to make sure no one's left us any messages about new cases."

Monty rolled his eyes, the sarcasm rolling off his tongue. "Too right. Be a bloomin' _shame_ to have only _one_ case today and haveta spend the rest of the time loungin' around."

"You said it!" Chip said, enthused by the thought. "Rescue Rangers, away!"

"Me an' my big mouth," Monty mumbled, under his breath, as the RangerWing neared its home base.

Later that afternoon, Danny met up with Sawyer again, this time outside Studio 17 of Lot C, the building reserved for the shooting of Danny's film. Animal actors of every era and size poured out of the building, from King Kong and Grape Ape to Atom Ant and Felix the Cat. Sawyer for her part looked a little worse for wear, having been through several hours of auditions. "You wouldn't _believe_ what some of them are asking just for part-time work," Sawyer started in.

Danny was as peppy up as ever. "Oh, don't worry about that, Sawyer. L.B. will handle the money details. I can't wait to start directing this masterpiece!"

Sawyer got up in Danny's face. "Can't you take this seriously? Danny, this is a big responsibility! You can't sing and dance your way through it. Directing's a lot tougher than being in front of the camera."

"Oh, I've seen Flanigan do it hundreds of times, and all he does is tell everyone where to be and when to hit their cues. Besides, if I mess up he's still assistant director on this flick. I'm sure he'll help out if I miss something."

"Well, just so that you're aware of how tough it is," Sawyer said, dubious. "The hopes and dreams of lots of animals are riding on the success of this movie and there are lots of people who would _love_ to see you fail—see all of us fail for that matter."

Danny took Sawyer's hand and guided her over to a small _al fresco_ table outside the nearby commissary. "I know it's risky, Sawyer, but it's all been a risk so far. Who would've thought that we'd be two of the biggest stars in Hollywood, huh? It took every bit of faith I had to stick it out, and..." Danny took her hand again. "…I think I also had to borrow some of someone else's."

Sawyer glanced away for a moment. She'd been embarrassed at the Derby by his antics and meant to tell him so, but now he'd taken her out of train of thought. Danny was by no means a romancer, but he'd take her out on dates every week and when their schedules weren't running their lives they'd go for a day trip to Palm Springs or Monterey. She looked back, locking onto his eyes, and let her initial frustration go. "I wouldn't have had any faith to give if you hadn't given me my own faith back first. This town can really take a lot out of you. You don't get very far alone here."

Danny smiled back at her. "Don't I know it. You've always been there for me, and I just wanted to say, well, that it's meant a lot to me. It still does."

Sawyer looked into those eyes that were beaming at her, and that special something came over her. Slowly the world around them faded into the background, and Sawyer seemed to hear music coming from somewhere as she started to lean forward. Danny leaned in toward her as well, taking her in his arms, and their eyes started to close. Just then, a shout from across the lot broke them out of their nearly-special moment. It was Flanigan, and he appeared on the verge of panic as he ran up to the seated cats.

"Oh dear, what a calamity!" Flanigan said, waving his arms in a frenzy. "What a disaster!" Sawyer frowned, letting Danny go and turning to the frantic director.

"Flanigan! This better be really, really important!" (A/N Yeah You interrupted their time)

Flanigan sat down between them, catching his breath. "Oh, it's the most horrible, the most unimaginable, the most..."

"WHAT IS IT!" the two cats demanded. Flanigan grabbed Danny by the collar, who in turn grabbed Sawyer's arm as he was pulled along. "Come along, quickly!"

The printer's office was halfway across the lot, but Flanigan was doing his Michael Johnson impression, Danny and Sawyer flying behind in tow, and they were there in less than a minute. Flanigan slammed the office door shut, then checked to make sure no one was inside.

Danny gasped in surprise at the sight in front of him. "When, where, what, why, how?"

The office was in a shambles, papers strewn everywhere. Sawyer recovered herself from the breakneck dash they'd done, and one look at the place was enough to justify Flanigan's ravings."Why do we even _pay_ security here, if people can just waltz in like this? What did they take?"

Flanigan gulped and pointed to Danny. Sawyer's mouth dropped open. "You mean…_his script_!"

"I'm afraid so," Flanigan said. Sawyer's pulse doubled as she looked to her friend.

"Danny, _please _tell me you had more than one copy!"

The orange tabby started to perspire. "Well, I—"(A/N Oh Skunk)

"Oh, no..."

L.B. walked in and quickly shut the door again. He was beside himself with worry, wringing his hands. "Oh, if this gets out...or worse if the _script_ gets out! A leak now could cost us more than any profits we'd make!"

The studio owner tried to steady himself, but the thought of ruin didn't make things any easier. "With all the hype we've already paid for, we simply_ have_ to recover that script intact! Danny, I'm putting _you_ in charge of it. You've got as much invested in it as any of us. And remember, _no_ police. No one here can know about this, not even your old friends. We can't have this getting out to the press, or it could be the end!"

Sawyer, as always, was the levelheaded one. "You're leaving the recovery of a stolen script to an actor/director? Okay, I can see your desire to avoid the press. They'd think that this was just a publicity stunt. And we do need some help of the private type. We need someone who can be discreet and doesn't mind working for animals."

Danny thought a moment, then his countenance brightened. "You can count on me, sir! We'll find out who's done this and make them wish they hadn't! And I know just who to call on for this, too. I just hope they're available."

"Whoever it is, I want them on the case yesterday!" L.B. barked. "Get them here and save my...the studio's reputation!"

Danny nodded resolutely and led Sawyer outside, while Flanigan bit his nails and did his best to console his boss.

"You up for a quick trip to the Big Apple?" Danny asked. Sawyer raised her eyebrows in surprise. "New York? Why all that way?"

"You'll see. We need an experienced investigative team with a proven track record. Besides, New York's been good to us. Remember our Broadway reviews?"

"You better believe it, Danny," Sawyer said, smirking. "I love that town. But who's so important that we have to go _all that way_?"

Danny pulled out a cell phone and placed a call, then returned his attention to Sawyer. "Let's head for the airport. We've got the Mammoth jet warming up in the bullpen as we speak!"

In a montage sequence, Danny and Sawyer quickly prepared, then rode to the airport. The Mammoth Studios private Cessna C-10 was there, primed and waiting. A valet rolled a red carpet down from the plane's hatch over the stairs in time to cover the bottom step before they could step on it.

The cats boarded, the hatch closed and within a minute they were in the air. Danny read the latest movie society papers while Sawyer checked over their movie budget, wincing a couple of times. When they landed at LaGuardia, a car was already waiting to pick them up.

The Rangers had just finished dinner, and the sounds of Dale grumbling emanated from the kitchen. It was his turn to do the dishes—they'd switched to hard plastic quite a while back—and the fun-loving chipmunk grimaced, his arms halfway in the sudsy dishwater.

"Why can't Gadget invent an automatic dishwasher..."

In the main room, the Rangers were watching the evening news. Stan Blather, their favorite news reporter, was doing a live shot. "...and the news on the war front continues to be wait-and-see. In the world of entertainment, Mammoth Studios' chairman L.B. Mammoth today expressed great hopes for his company's upcoming film, 'A Street Cat Named Desiree'."

L.B. Mammoth's visage appeared on-screen. "We expect 'Street Cat' to be one of this studio's greatest achievements."

The picture switched back to Stan. "Word has it that Danny Cat is writing and directing this modern musical interpretation of the Tennessee Williams classic. Studio security is extra-tight to prevent any leaks, but we understand filming will begin in two weeks."

Gadget turned to the others, sitting on the semicircular sofa with her. "Golly, I bet filmmaking must be exciting! Think of all the great inventions that have gone into just making movies."

"Too right," Monty said. "Why, I remember seeing those old crank-reel cameras they used to use. Me dad, Cheddarhead Charlie, got hold of one once. Filmed a year of his life he did—won the documentary award at the Cannes Film Festival, too! Of course, he traded it in for a one-way ticket to Timbuktu and their annual goat cheese festival."

"Just image, being able to be a movie star!" Dale said. "The fast cars, the fame, the food!"

Chip turned around as Dale came into the room, still wearing his dishwashing gloves. "Take those things off, Dale! You're making a mess out of the floor. Did you clean _all_ the dishes this time?"

Dale saluted, splashing water on the sofa. "Chip, they're so clean you could eat off of 'em!"

Chip rolled his eyes—he was never one for patience where Dale was concerned. "That's the idea, silly. Now put those gloves back in the kitchen and get back here! The movie's about to start."

Dale totally ignored Chip's order and jumped over the top of the sofa, landing right between him and Gadget. "Oboyoboyoboy! Which one is it tonight?"

Gadget was oblivious as usual to the munk-fighting over who got to sit next to her. "Well, I thought since all the movie talk's about Danny at the moment, we'd watch one of his. How about one of his hits from the 70's, like 'Squeaky Clean Dancing' or 'Sunday Morning Bedrest'?"

"Booooriiiing!" Dale shouted. "Hasn't he made any movies with car chases or explosions?"

Gadget crossed her arms, frustrated. "Jeepers Dale, is _that_ all you like? Danny's always tried to push for nice movies with a positive and uplifting message to them. Isn't that more important than a few random explosions and gratuitous onscreen violence?"

Dale thought on it. "Uh…nope."

"Gotta go along with you there, Dale," Monty said. "A bloke needs a bit of a punch-up ta have some fun every now and again. All that dancin' and singin', well, it's all right but it's not Monterey Jack's cup of tea."

"Well, I think it's good," Chip said. "After all, he's brought some higher culture to the masses. And that's always worthwhile."

Monty shrugged. "If you say so, mate. Me, I prefer a good dust-up or two. After all, when was the last time a _dancer_ scared anyone?"

A knock came at the door. Dale (who still had those gloves on) rushed to be first but due to his slippery gloves he couldn't get the door open. Monty got up to give him a hand and opened it for him. Those at the couch could hear the gasp in Monty's voice.

"C..c..ca..ca..._CAT_!"

Chip jumped up like lightning, the thought flashing through his mind that their greatest enemy, the nefarious Fat Cat, had finally found them. The other Rangers took cover as well, thinking the same thing. Monty for his part was frozen in place, so it was a good thing that it wasn't a criminal at the door. Dale peeped around the paralyzed Aussie to see a smiling, well-dressed orange tabby cat sitting cross-legged on the limb outside their door.

Danny took off his straw hat, which he still liked to wear when he traveled. "Hi there! Is this the home of the Rescue Rangers?"

Dale looked at the smiling feline's face and took on a smile of his own. "Gosh, you look just like that cat from the movies! Uh yes, we're the Rescue Rangers! What can we rescue you from?"

The cat took on a hopeful look. "Um, total financial ruin?"

Dale couldn't remember anyone having come to them for that reason, but then again there was always a first time. "Okay, that sounds reasonable. Come insi...er, outside and we'll talk. Hey gang, look who's here!"

Dale walked outside, wishing he'd brought his autograph book. The others got up from their hiding places and came to the door.

"Gee willikers! It's Danny!" Gadget said.

Monty was still frozen in place, but Zipper had flown to the kitchen and brought back a thimbleful of water. Chip promptly doused him with it. "Pwah, wha..._what happened_!"

Monty shouted, starting to punch the air. "Where's the fight?"

"No fight here, Monty," Chip said, then gestured outside. "Say hello to our new client, Danny!"

Monty looked, and the cat was still sitting there, smiling and waving his fingers at him.

He didn't freeze up this time, but he was still dubious. "Uh, right. Pleased to meet ya—I think."

The Rangers and Danny climbed down the treehouse to the lawn below. Sawyer took one look at the lot of them and wondered whatever had possessed Danny to think these little animals were the answer to their troubles. Danny saw the look of course, and knew it well.

"Look Sawyer, I know they're not that big, but they've solved countless crimes like this! Our old friend Canina La Fur recommended them to me especially. She said that Mortimer here—"

"Mont-er-ey…" the Aussie growled—Canina had a penchant for mistaking his name.

"Er, Monterey helped her out of a big jam," Danny continued. Sawyer wasn't convinced by any means.

"But that was years and years and _years_ ago! I've heard of them too, but I think they're a _little_ out of their league."

Chip climbed up on top of a nearby park bench, getting at eye level with Sawyer. "Hey, we may not be big, but that's never stopped us! We've beaten international spies, smuggling rings, supervillians, evil twins, and corporate and animal pirates. If you've got a problem, we're willing to help!"

"I suppose it's too late to call some Pinkertons in on this..." Sawyer mused. "Okay, here's the deal. Someone stole the script to our upcoming movie and we have to get it back as quickly as possible."

"Stole it? Golly, that's terrible!" Gadget said. "That'd be like someone stealing the blueprints to one of my inventions."

"True, but it's worse," Danny said. "Unless we can get it back before filming begins, we're looking at a hundred million-dollar project down the tubes! Not to mention my life savings."

Chip loved a big case, and this was about as big as they came. "It looks like you've hired yourself some detectives. We'll leave immediately and find that script for you. Rescue Rangers, away!"

Dale ran in front of Danny. "But first, could I have your autograph?"

Danny grinned. "Sure, be glad to!"

Dale rushed back up inside the treehouse, and while they waited Danny began to explain more about the robbery to Chip. They were interrupted by a high-pitched squeal that came from across the park lawn. It was a red-haired teenaged squirrel that was a friend to the Rangers, and had a huge crush on Chip. In this case, Tammy wasn't looking at Chip, but at the cat speaking with him

"DANNY!" Tammy zoomed across the lawn in far less time than any of them thought possible. The girl just stood there in her rolled-up jeans and pink shirt, the bottom of it not tucked in as usual. Just like Monty, she was frozen, but it was from being totally star-struck. Danny of course was used to this, and took it in stride.

"Hello there, little lady," Danny said. "Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh..." she sighed.

Danny stuck out his hand to shake hers. "I'm Danny. What's your name?"

"Uh-huh..."

Chip chuckled. "Her name's Tammy, Danny." Tammy took his hand, but still seemed barely aware of her surroundings. Dale came back, and Danny signed his autograph book. Then he asked Dale for a blank page and wrote one out for his admirer. "Let's see…'to Tammy...thanks for being such an adoring fan...Danny.' There you go!"

Tammy took the autograph, her sparkling eyes still fixed on Danny. He waved goodbye to her, and motioned Sawyer and the Rangers to the waiting car. As they left, Tammy snapped back to reality. "It happened! IT REALLY HAPPENED! Oh, I'll never wash this hand again! _Nevernevernever_!"

As the giddy squirrel bounded off, Danny continued to explain the problems they were facing. Chip went into detective mode, already letting his mind try to sort things out. "So, who would be the most likely candidates to do something like this? Who would profit most by the picture _not_ showing?"

Danny shared a look with Sawyer. "Well, there's always Darla of course..."

"Darla Dimple?" Dale said. "I heard she was dead. Okay, anybody else?"

Sawyer ran through the list in her mind. "Any of the rival studios could be involved—MouseWorks, Luniversal, Paramoot...not to mention the small-timers who'd like to see Mammoth Studios in the tank. If any of them get their hands on that script, the game's up."

"And there's always the chance that either the media or an overzealous fan broke in somehow," Danny said. "Whatever the case, we've got to act fast."

"We can't just assume it's an enemy," Chip said. "Even someone you think of as a friend could be behind this. We'll need to investigate anyone close to this project and look into motive. You're right, though, we'd better hurry. There's not much time to waste. As a precaution, Danny, I'd suggest you get to work on a new script. Do it all from memory if you have too."

Danny rubbed his temples, trying to bring the world into focus. "You're right of course. I'll try, but I really just typed the story as I went along in a stream of consciousness. Whatever you need while you're in Hollywood, just let me know."

Dale assumed a "wise old man" pose. "As Yoda says, 'there is no try'."

Monty, who didn't dare take his eyes off Sawyer or Danny, gulped at the thought he voiced. "The sooner we've solved this case, the sooner we're not working with ca...cats!"

Sawyer ignored the Aussie's trepidation. "And if we don't solve this quick, there's no more Mammoth Studios. I'm going to go along with you on your investigation."

Chip immediately took exception with that idea. "You? No, you're not!"

Sawyer got right in his face. "And why _not_, pray tell?"

"Because you'd only slow us down or blow our cover!" Chip countered. "Everyone in Hollywood knows you, not to mention everywhere else."

"I don't _care_! I'm not going to sit on the sidelines and watch while everything in life that's important to me hangs in the balance."

"She does have a point there, Chip," Gadget said. "Besides, she could probably open some doors that we couldn't."

Dale nodded, pointing at Sawyer. "That's obvious! She's like, three feet taller than us."

Chip bonked Dale on the noggin. "She means Sawyer has _influence_, nuthead! Which she does, but we can't be seen with her or whoever's involved will know something's up. All right, Sawyer, you can run interference for us. Use your influence to gather attention wherever we go, and that'll make it easier for us to slip into areas unnoticed."

"Some of us won't even need help," Zipper buzzed.

The car stopped at the airport, and soon the Rangers were flying first-class to Hollywood.

When the plane landed, Dale ran down the red-carpeted steps, having put on dark shades he got from somewhere. "Talent scouts, here I am! Dale Oakmont, fame and fortune hunter!"

Dale looked for any sign of approval, but the tarmac was empty. "Aw, nuts! Guess we'll have to stick with detective work a while longer."

Sawyer took her time, stopping when she got to Dale. "You remind me of me when I got to this town, Dale. But it's got a dark side you wouldn't believe. Stay naïve, you'll enjoy your trip better that way."

"I'm always naïve!" Dale said. "It makes the day go faster!"

They piled into the waiting limo, and soon they were at the majestic Mammoth Studios. Dale was running first to one side of the car, then the other, pointing at the buildings and actors he'd seen in dozens upon dozens of movies. "Wow, and there's the old steam engine they used in 'Death Train From Planet Z', and the old haunted house from 'Flying Vampire Rutabagas' and..."

"Is he always like this?" Danny interrupted.

"No, it's usually worse," Chip said.

They drove on through the various lots, reaching the printing office. Everything was just as it had been when Danny left, and the Rangers went to work immediately. After a series of tests, painstaking analyses and following up a few theories, Chip reported to Danny, now at eye level with his client thanks to the tall partition at the front of the office where printing requests were received.

"I'd say whoever did this was thorough, and did their best to make it look like a random robbery," Chip said. "So many papers were strewn around, it gives it the feeling of a deliberate cover-up."

Gadget emerged from a cloud of dusting powder. "Jeepers, they didn't leave fingerprints or anything!"

Chip returned his attention to Danny. "It almost _had_ to be an inside job, since the thief knew when the office would be empty. Who had access to this place at the time of the robbery?"

"I think I can answer that one." L.B. strode in, with Flanigan at his side. "I spoke with the printing office manager, and the list is a long one. Any of the studio janitors could've gotten in—they all have keys. The senior staff has keys as well, including myself, Danny, Sawyer, Flanigan—"

At that moment, Flanigan tapped L.B.'s shoulder. "Actually, sir, I no longer have mine."

"What's this?" L.B. asked. Flanigan ducked in embarrassment. "I sort of...lost my executive set. I had to get them replaced, and I'm still waiting for the duplicates from security."

"That's two good possibilities, then," Chip said. "We'll look into the janitorial and security staff for any irregularities."

Sawyer broke in on him. "You'd better do it after-hours, which incidentally is about to get underway. The studio closes in just under an hour."

Danny headed for the door. "Say, why don't I take all of you out for a nice dinner, and then you can come back and get started? I've rented a nice suite at the Hollywood Palace for you when you need to rest."

The others appeared to be about to accept Danny's offer, but Chip spoke up first. "We really appreciate the offer, but we've got to focus all our energy on the case. When we've solved it, then we'll be more than willing to take you up on that. Don't forget to get working on your script!"

Dale rushed up to his leader. "But Chip, I wanna pow-wow with the big-wigs! Schmooze with the movers and shakers! Sell my life story!"

"There'll be time enough for that later, Dale. If we get this case done in time, I'm sure doors will open all over and even _you'd_ be able to sell a story here."

"Zowie, do you think so?" Dale asked, getting excited. "Maybe we could sell a story about the Rangers, and then we'd get our own movie or a series on DVD!"

Chip sighed and shrugged, looking apologetically at Danny and Sawyer. "Could you have something brought in for us?"

"No problem, Chip," Danny said. "Hollywood's made for that. I'm going to see what I can recover of my script from memory. Sawyer, are you staying here?"

Sawyer headed for the door with Danny. "I'll let them handle it for tonight, but when they start touring the studios in the morning I'll help them out. I think you and I need to talk some, anyway."

"My thoughts exactly," L.B. said. "Well Danny, it appears that you've got some experienced detectives on the job. Keep me updated."

The famous cats left the Rangers to do their work, and drove out of the studio. They had houses right next to each other in Beverly Hills, and each one had come to treat the other's house as their own in matters of daily routine. Sawyer went with Danny to his house, where he had set up his writing area in a private drafting room.

Danny did his writing on an old Corona typewriter, in fact the same one that he had used when he infiltrated Mammoth Studios and added the names of his friends to the invitation list for Darla Dimple's premiere. He'd considered it lucky, so he'd stuck with it. Now, he sat down in front of the old keyboard, put a sheet of paper in, and sat there. "Oh boy...maybe I should've upgraded to a computer, like you asked me to."

"I could have one here in less than an hour for you," Sawyer said.

Danny eyed his old typewriter like it was an old friend, as it truly was to him. "Uh, naw, better not. This will do fine. Okay, page one, scene one...now how did the rest of the 90 pages go?" Danny scratched his head, trying to put it all back into words. "Let's see...college...football...streetwise girl...college quarterback..."

"Danny, we need to talk," Sawyer said.

Danny kept on banging the keys. "Uh, sure. What's the topic?"

Sawyer sat down, trying to think of the best way to open the conversation. "I'm not sure those Rangers are going to find anyone. Yes, I know that they're supposed to have a reputation as detectives and that you like them. I'm starting to like them a little myself, but…"

"Say, could you give me a hand?" Danny asked, pointing to one of the typewriter keys that had stuck. "You know more about the ins-and-outs of these things than I do."

Sawyer got between him and his Corona. "Danny, are you listening? You're so wrapped up in getting this script done that you don't seem to be thinking straight!"

"What do you mean?" Danny asked. "I'm just doing what I can to get things back in shape for filming and all."

"I mean, _we_ should be looking for the crook, not a bunch of pint-sized sleuths!" Sawyer said. "Or better yet, someone with the size and muscle to handle whoever's taken your script!"

Danny knew it was more than that now. "What are you so worked up about, Starlight?"

"I'm worked up because you've put your entire self-worth on the line, and if this falls through I'm afraid that you'll—" she stopped, looking at him curiously. "What did you call me?"

Danny ducked his head a little. "You remember—I started calling you that after I sang that song, 'You Are My Lucky Star'." Sawyer looked down a moment, remembering.

She did recall it, and when she looked back she was smiling. "You haven't called me that in a long time."

Danny smiled back. "Well, when you started getting upset, I remembered how you acted that way in the movie and it just clicked. But you are my Starlight, though. It's there, in your eyes, in the way you move, the way you sing."

"Oh, Danny," she said, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Help me to make this next dream come true, I guess," Danny said. "Now, let's see what's next."

With Sawyer's help, Danny got his Corona going again and worked up a basic summary of his original story, attempting to expand it from there. After an hour, he stood up, exhausted.

"Sawyer, it's just no good!" the tabby cried. "I spent weeks coming up with original ideas, the songs and even the choreography! I can't _possibly _recreate all that in time for filming! If the Rangers don't come through for us...if they don't come through, we'll be broke, finished."

Sawyer knew that Danny could get down on himself, especially when others were depending on him. "Hey! Don't lose hope, Danny. What happened to that swinging cat who could belt out a song and dance number at any time or place? You've been so intent on this project for so long, maybe you've lost sight of the old magic. You've got to calm down, relax! Let your mind drift back to the good old days for once. Get in touch with the old Danny."

Deliberately, Sawyer walked over to the record player. Danny couldn't bring himself to upgrade from his beloved 78's to 33's (he'd never dream of upgrading to CDs). She took out a jazzy classic and put it on. "You always worked better with music playing."

Danny was about to protest when the beat of Benny Goodman's "One O'Clock Jump" got to him. His feet started tapping, his eyes closed, and a contented smile formed on his face. As the volume rose, he leaped into the air and came down by Sawyer, taking her hand. She smiled and let her dancing blood take over, and soon they were nearly flying across the room. They cavorted like young kittens, moving to the rhythm, and when it finished they were both on a higher level.

Danny immediately headed back for the typewriter. "Okay, maybe I won't get the whole story back, but I can least get all of it I can. And maybe I can even write it better the second time!"

Sawyer stayed with Danny for a while to make sure he got off to a good start on his script-writing, then retired to her own home.

In terms of interior design, it was the total opposite of Danny's nostalgic tastes. Everything was white, bright, spacious and modern.

Sawyer liked things cozy and convenient when she came home, and her butler, Stevens, a faithful old Himalayan cat, did his best to assure that all was to her tastes.

Such was the case now and after a few words of praise for her servant, Sawyer slipped into bed quietly. Tomorrow was sure to be a long day.

**Indeed Sawyer. **

**So there you have the first chappie of _Cats Don't Direct._**

**Yeah, it's a slight xover but still has that CDD flare**

**I might update next week seeing how school work out**

*** Please press REVIEW button ***

**Saber Saber y'all**


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